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“Gods. Fine,” I groaned, and then added, “A menace. A fucking menace.”
As I crept closer to the bathroom, I noticed that the door was wide open. His clothes and shoes lay heaped beside the bathmat, and steam rose from behind the shower curtain.
Fuck me.
I leaned against the doorframe, my back to the bathroom, and recounted my chat with Nate. Avoiding any mention of my special gift, I relayed it as though Nate was desperate and terrified to share, and that I was the expert navigator of sensitive topics. Someone he could trust.
Razai asked only two short questions, and when I finished the whole story, inquired, “So, what makes an archangel spill his dark secrets to a nobody?”
“I answered that already. He said it’s because I’m a nobody.”
Razai made a sound of disbelief. “That’s a dumb reason. But good work, Gray. You’ve sincerely skyrocketed past my expectations. No one’s been able to get Nate to crack.”
The smell of my shampoo hit my nose, along with something else. Razai’s scent. It wasn’t anything that I could name or describe. He wore deodorant like any other guy. He washed and shaved and ate like a normal person. Plus, he was still a verifiable stranger to me.
So, why did I already recognize his smell?
Shutting my eyes tight didn’t help block it out either.
“You look tense,” Razai stated. Water hit the plastic curtain liner in a torrent, startling me.
I frowned. “You can’t see me.”
“Tell me you’re not tense, then.”
“Maybe I’m a little on edge.”
“Why is that, dear Detective?”
“Because there’s an entitled archangel in my shower, and I don’t know how to get him out.”
“Just ask him nicely. Obviously.”
“Fine. Will you please get out of my shower and leave me alone?”
“Mmmmm… no.” He chuckled at my groan. “Don’t worry, love. I’m nearly there. So, what’s your next course of action?”
“Talk to Sydni. Nate is setting up a meeting. Apparently, she requested one.”
“Be wary of that girl. She’s got an impressive uppercut. Even bruised me on accident during class last year. I admire her.”
“So do I now.”
“You wound me, Detective.”
“You waste my hot water, Professor. And my time.”
He shut off the water. “You love it. Don’t lie. Can you grab my clothes for me?”
“Sure,” I said automatically, resigned to my fate of bagging his soaking clothes so they didn’t flood every square foot of my quarters. I stepped into the bathroom.
And froze.
He’d gotten out of the shower, and I hadn’t been prepared. He seemed taller for some reason. Broader. Too much for this tiny bathroom.
“Not my dirty clothes,” he clarified softly. “The clean ones.” Razai’s towel drooped dangerously low on his waist, the trail of dark gray hair disappearing beneath. Rippling abs rose and fell with easy breath. Water beaded on his flushed skin and dripped to the ground.
“Your hair is s-slicked back,” I stammered.
